


One in a Million

by Colonel_Gloves



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cancer, Dogs, Ed is an adult, Grad Student Ed, Lawyer Roy, M/M, Major Illness, No cheating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-10-21 12:29:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17642834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colonel_Gloves/pseuds/Colonel_Gloves
Summary: It's the first time in Ed's life that he can finally describe himself as content. His brother is happy, he has an amazing job, and an incredible bastard of a partner. He's finally grasped the stability he's wanted for so long and some days thinks he'll really never be happier.And then, Roy starts lying to him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all. This is an alt so I can post RoyEd without being harassed by antis on my main. Not my first fic, but is my first RoyEd fic (and, really, my first shippy one). 
> 
> I ordinarily pre-write my content, but given how uncertain I still am with parts of this fic, wanted to use feedback to adjust this time to try and learn how to write this sort of fic. So updates will be somewhat slow, but I'll try as best I can to adjust to whatever feedback I get to work with you guys and make it worth it! I hope you enjoy!

Ed had a "very strict schedule" for his days.

He'd roll out of bed sometime between four and five, depending on how many times he told his phone's alarm to piss off- or until Roy all but booted him out of bed. _Yes,_ four or five _in the morning._ He'd shower if he got up early enough, again, all because of Roy, because Roy had started harassing him out of showering at night, because he didn't like his stupidly comfortable, luxurious silk sheets getting wet. Then, because no matter _how_ much Roy nagged him about eating a healthy breakfast, if the bastard wasn't awake, he could _not_ make him do it, he'd sail out the door with nothing more than his backpack and his keys, and bike the five miles to campus.

Because no siree was he letting his hot shot of a boyfriend let him stay in his place rent free,  _and_ buy him a car. 

(No matter how fucking cold biking was in the mornings).

Ed usually got into his deserted lab sometime before six, because he liked it like that; he worked best when alone. He'd check on his cells, his email, glare a bit at his budding dissertation. He'd clutch his first cup of coffee. By the time the sleepy-eyed undergrads started getting in, he'd have a cheesy good morning text from Roy, one that he made faces at just in case anyone saw, but so secretly he made sure even Roy didn't know, he... actually did appreciate.

Just a little bit.

... _What?_ It was fucking nice to have a daily reminder scroll across his phone every morning, so witty it was cheesy and so cheesy it was embarrassing, that he had a warm, smirking, love-stuffed moron at home who actually did more than tolerate him. 

Not that he'd admit that. 

To anyone. 

...besides Al.

But he'd have his good morning text, mid checking on his cultures, then he'd have some more cultures to check on, or a meeting with Izumi if he was really, really,  _really_ lucky. He'd gather some more data, guaranteed to be inconclusive, or, his favorite, the kind that really, really,  _really_ did look conclusive, only for him to run the maths later and find it statistically insignificant. He'd start on his third cup of coffee by noon, and eat the lunch he'd thrown together the night before whenever someone nagged him enough... either a fellow grad student, or text-message emoji-overuser Roy. 

Once, he'd spelled out the ingredients for his sandwich by emoji, one message at a time, then sent him continuous ambulance emojis by the minute until Ed had finally broken, and sent him a selfie, crumbling crusts of his sandwich included.

The stupidly huge smirk of Roy's that he had saved as his picture in his phone had fit so well with their conversation that day that it shouldn't have even been legal.

Really, Roy Mustang's very existence was too smug, snarky, and stupid to be legal at all, and some day Ed was convinced he was going to overdose on all the cheese and facepalm himself to death. 

But that day had not come yet. Somehow. By some incredible, unbelievable miracle. Even as Roy tested the limits each and every day. No, that day had not come yet, so Ed's incredibly strict schedule still continued on to four or five, when he'd bike on back home. He'd used to work longer hours, even staying overnight, but it was his last year, and he really had most of the data that he was going to get. He finally felt he could suffice it with twelve hour days instead of sixteen. 

Besides, even though everybody else in his life would deny it- to Ed, it was just really, really crucial that he get back home that early. 

Specifically, it was crucial for two simple reasons.

Reason one: he. needed. a. goddamn.  _nap._

Reason two: he needed to pet, talk to, and feed Colonel Fluffster.

Then, he'd spend the rest of his night with his hot shot boyfriend. Eating his first legit meal of the day, being doted over enough to make his face flame hotter than a bunsen burner, balancing between working some on his dissertation and working even more with curling snugly into the couch, getting himself as comfortable as he could sandwiched between a fluffy monster of a dog, and a witty monster of a boyfriend.

And that was his "very strict schedule."

(Quotation marks added by Alphonse Elric, who had noted his schedule was so lacking in strictness it was barely even a schedule at all, then had laughed in his face, and told him he loved him. Ed had, again, flamed hotter than a bunsen burner.)

So. In conclusion.

Ed was very, very used to waking up from an afternoon-turned-evening nap, molded into the softest, biggest couch in the world, and so comfortable he could've died happy.

However.

What he was _not_ used to, was waking up breathing in a mouthful of coconut-scented shampoo, and one long, heavy, and criminally warm arm, draped around him.

Ed squinted. He frowned into space, staring at his mussed, grumpy reflection in Roy's TV. He squinted harder.

A warm hand delicately dropped around right into his face and  _squeezed._

"Have I ever told you," was murmured, in the deepest, warmest, silkiest purr, right by his ear, "how absolutely _adorable_ you are when you scrunch your nose up like that?"

Ed tried his very, very hardest to frown again. Because _no,_ damn it, he was not going to reward _nose pinching_ with a smile.

"Have I told you that?" was asked again, punctuated with another gentle squeeze of his nose. "Because, if I have not, then that is a slight that I feel utterly remiss for, and must immediately dedicate myself towards rectifying every day." He took a deep breath, so deep Ed could feel it ruffle at his braid. "You, Edward Elric. Are _the most_ adorable sight in the world, when you scrunch your nose. Quod erat demonstradum."

...okay, now it was no longer all that difficult not to smile.

"You already have told me that, actually," Ed muttered, flushing hot again when his voice came out muffled and squeaky, softened both by Roy's hand smushed all over his face and the two fingers pinching his nose. "Like three times a week."

"Ah? _Only_ three times...? I take offense to that... I should-"

"Which is more than enough, because I told you, I'm not fucking _adorable."_ He shook his head hard, a vigorous spasm half approaching a seizure that was as determined as he could and finally, _finally_ shook the warm hand right off of him, then pushed himself back upright as vehemently as he could to stare down at his blissfully happy partner, spread out still behind him. _"And quit squeezing my nose!"_

And Roy, of course, simply reacted with nothing more than a warm, solid smile.

"Good evening, love," he returned after a pause of several awkward, stretching moments, and because Ed knew him so very well, he just _knew_ the bastard was restraining himself with every bit of self-control he had to not reach up and squeeze his nose again. "How was your day?"

And something softened in Ed, something warm and weak and vulnerable, because Ed had never _really_ been mad in the first place, and now he felt himself going even softer now, all but melting as he stared over Roy's stretched out form, somehow so comfortable even with smushed into sharing the couch with him that it looked like they belonged there together, like in one of Roy's cheesy rom-coms that Ed couldn't stand- seriously, it was like the man was _made_ of cheese. And how had Roy wormed his way in there to wrap himself around him during his nap so quietly he hadn't even woken up? _Why?_

"You know," Ed sighed, stretching his way through a yawn and not bothering to ask. The ways of Roys were usually devious, often ridiculous, and always a complete mystery. "Long. Boring." He started to shift around a little, drawing up his legs to curl up and try to make some more room. "Ling was a little bitch."

A warmth began to grow in Roy's eyes, that sinfully _proud of himself_ smile fading into more amused instead. "That tends to be how you describe him, yes."

"He abandoned me to hold office hours for him, Roy. Do you hear me? _Abandoned!_ I was alone in his weird, tiny office for two hours!"

"The tragedy... the scope of it is too crushing for me to scarcely even imagine, my dear. _Abandoned._ For two _whole_ hours. Simply unconscionable." Roy shook his head gravely, back and forth, as serious as he could come... before he, again, began to smile. "Did anyone even come by?"

"...Well, no, but-"

"So you were able to relax for two whole, unexpected, surprise hours?"

"I- _no!_ " This time, it was Ed's turn to poke at his nose, but he very quickly turned away to feign a sulk, huffing and hunching over back into that sinfully soft couch. "I worked on my dissertation. That's not relaxing. And I had shit to do! You-... oh, just shut up, Roy..."

Roy sighed softer himself, and this time, he could tell the amusement had faded as his partner worked to sit upright, drawing closer to run a slow hand down his back. "You're almost there. You defend in three months, Ed... just a little longer, and then you'll be out. No more office hours, no more undergrads, no more dissertation. You're really almost there."

Ed closed his eyes, allowing himself just a heartbeat of focus on the new hand on his back, hearing and believing the certainty in Roy's voice. The assuredness he'd never been able to allow himself, but that was okay, because Roy had enough for the two of them.

Just that one moment, because he took his nap _before_ Roy got home, because he wanted to fully enjoy his Roy-time, and he couldn't do that if he was going to let himself have another minor freak-out about his future.

"So- so, how was your day?" Ed asked, albeit with some effort, closing his eyes to reorient his focus and take in a deep breath of his own. "All good in the lawyer world?"

Behind him, Roy laughed a little, hand slipping to momentarily tangle gently back into his braid. "We had our first meeting with the Holtz firm today. They came in asking if my secretary could not bother to bring any coffee, because they weren't planning on the meeting lasting very long."

"...you don't have a secretary, though."

"That's right." Roy gently tossed his braid back and forth, just a little, a soft, warm swaying that Ed could just barely feel tug on the back of his head. "I do have a Riza Hawkeye, though. Who was decidedly unamused by this comment."

Ed nearly choked when he tried to muffle his snort, to that one.

_Yeah,_ he thought, stretching his arms out and finally,  _finally,_ relaxing.  _Yeah, I bet._

Roy let him go at last, and Ed gave himself one last quick shake of his head, casting off the last lingering vestiges of his nap, blinking his tired eyes and shrugging his sore, aching shoulders. Then, with a long, satisfied sigh, he pushed himself up, and followed as Roy led the way to the kitchen.

Reason number 329035, that Roy was stuffed with so much perfection that it shouldn't have been fucking legal: he was a _god_ in the kitchen.

Really. It really shouldn't have even been _legal,_ to be so dammed _perfect_ at so many things. It defied some unwritten law of the universe, that there was only so much good that could fit in a person and nobody could simply be good at _everything,_ because that wasn't how it worked. Everyone had something they sucked at.

But Roy Mustang, apparently.

It _wasn't_ fair, and it was increasingly unbelievable, with each and every passing day, that Roy Mustang had looked at Ed, and his long series of screw-ups, and decided that so much perfection deserved to fit into his hands-

But Roy was unbelievable in more ways than one. Ed had simply learned to accept that.

While Roy began to rummage around in the fridge, Ed, still rubbing his eyes, knelt down to grin at Colonel Fluffster: their huge, fluffy, white and black monster of the most affectionate and snuggly dog in the entire world. "And how was _your_ day today, Colonel?" he asked, warmly ruffling the top of his head, leaning forward to let him lick at his face in hello. "I bet you got up to more than both of us combined, didn't you, boy?"

The colonel barked to his face, warm and confident and long, and Ed couldn't help but beam right back.

Colonel Fluffster was a German Shepherd rescue, harboring back all the way to Roy's time in the army. He'd been in training as a puppy, set to sniff out land mines in Afghanistan, but a serious accident had left him with a badly broken leg before he'd even gotten a handler. Dogs who didn't make the cut, for whatever reason, were usually given to a shelter or a military family; but, at the time of the accident, Roy had been putting in his papers, and a friend of his, an officer at the canine program, had decided that Roy would be able to make good use of a warm, loving, dependable friend, and that the recovering, recently discharged dog would be glad to be given someone to take care of.

Years later, the gesture had culminated into this: an aging yet very affectionate dog that walked with a slight limp, and greeted every visitor to his home, whether known or not, with such enthusiastic jumping and licks, Ed was pretty sure he'd gotten a kiss from the dog before he'd gotten one from Roy.

"Edward?" Roy called over his shoulder, still futzing through foods stuff. "I'm in the mood for something quick tonight. Pasta, or beef stew?"

Ed kept himself turned around at that one, just barely; there was no need for Roy to see how weak-kneed just the mention of such fucking _delicious_ food had left him. It wasn't fair, wasn't fair, wasn't fair, but he _did not_ care, because delicious food was delicious food, and no matter how unfair it was that Roy was so good at making it, Ed still got to _eat it,_ so there wasn't exactly a raw end of the deal, here.

"I... u-um..." Narrowing his eyes down to the dog, he licked his lips, willing his stomach to just stop wanting to growl for once at merely the thought of dinner tonight. After a day of coffee, a slightly warm and mushed peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and more coffee, just picturing something like pasta or stew was...

"Hey- hey, wait a minute," he snapped, clutching onto the abrasiveness mostly just as a shield to hide how mouthwateringly tantalizing Roy's earlier words had made him. "That beef stew- you make it with wine! You just want the excuse to drink, _don't_ you?"

"Ed..."

"Pasta it is!" he declared, swiveling around to point up with as smug a look as he could. "No wine is getting wasted in a soup. Not on my watch."

Roy let out a slow, long-suffering sigh. He reached up to knead at the bridge of his nose with those delicate, long fingers of his, shaking his head back and forth in that way he did when he was trying very hard to restrain a smile of his own. "My dear Edward, for what feels as if it is the hundredth time that I have explained this to you, cooking with wine is a legitimate and common endeavor. Albeit, not one that you often witness in a college dorm room; I believe a fine wine would be rather wasted in instant ramen noodles... but, a legitimate and common endeavor nonetheless."

"Yeah, you've _said,_ but none of that explains why whenever you do it, half of it ends up in your mouth instead of in the food."

"Innocent tasting!" Roy cried, throwing up his hands. "Nothing more than an innocent taste of the ingredients! Please, I am not such an insensitive clod so as to get drunk before the meal has even _started,_ Ed."

But Ed had seen this dance before, and was not going to let himself be swayed. Instead, with another affectionate pat to Fluffster's head, he pushed himself up to his feet, pulling the sauce out of the fridge just for the excuse to cross closer to Roy so he could poke him once in the chest, hard. "Nope, nope, and nope. Cooking is science, and science is not safe science if done while sipping wine."

"Well, maybe not the way _you_ do it..."

Which was just about the stupidest thing he could've said, ever, which was not even surprising, because Roy was overflowing with stupidity- but yet another thing Roy did, that was so damn attractive it should've been illegal? The way that he looked at him, right then, when he did that stupid, smug wink, and all the roguish appeal of a magazine model, just _smiled._

How the _fuck_ could someone simultaneously be stuffed with that much perfection and that much just- just- _infuriatingness_ _-_ all at the same time? _How?_ What unwritten law of the universe had he broken this time, because was just fucking ungraspable, how ridiculous it was, how bewildering it was-

Not that he could ever say that aloud.

Roy may have been stuffed with perfection, but he was _also_ stuffed right up to the brim with the smuggest arrogance in the world, and if his ego got even the slightest hint of another stroke he might just explode.

So instead of letting Roy know just how dammed effective that look was on him- as if he didn't already know, the bastard- Ed very firmly turned himself away, revisiting down with Colonel Fluffster on the floor even as his face flamed as if he was a teenager again. "If you want your alcoholic's stew that badly, you can just make it tomorrow, anyway," he said, albeit more to the dog than Roy. "It takes longer to make than pasta, anyway, and I'm _starving."_

"Edward, my dear... you are _always_ starving. I do believe your stomach is as bottomless as Everest is tall."

"Do you always have to be so overdramatic about _everything?"_

Roy gave another long-suffering, _definitely_ overdramatic sigh, and Ed swore even Fluffster rolled his eyes at that one. "It's a personality defect of mine, I'm afraid..." the lawyer bemoaned, waving his hand. "I ooze drama as much as you radiate perfection."

"Oh my _god,_ you cheesy, overdramatic, ridiculous _ass-"_

"What? Am I not allowed to pay my wonderful partner a compliment every once in a while?"

"Not when you do it so much I hit an overload! And _really_ not if you're gonna try and compare me to the sun- and don't give me that look, because we _both_ know that's where you were headed with that one."

But Roy _did_ give him that look, that sad little jut of his lip that was the most sinfully attractive pout Ed have ever seen- and did he have to look like that while still wearing that stupidly neat, tailored suit? God, that _fucker-_

But then, the pout faded away back into a more serious look- not a moment too soon, either- and the lawyer had turned back to the dishes and package of pasta, face creasing into a frown. "Actually, you're right... I've got that check up tomorrow, remember? I was going to go back to work after it, but, I suppose I could come home early. For beef stew and, ah, some... purely _innocent_ wine tasting..."

"I- ...oh."

"...Ed?"

Roy's voice was easygoing again, light and calm, as unbothered as the sun on a clear, warm day, but it didn't matter, because he knew Roy had planned it all exactly this way. That he'd stuck it down into the conversation, burying the lead like the trained manipulator he was, wanting to ease them past and through it- but Ed had known Roy too well, and for too long, to miss the master wordsmith trying to manipulate him.

Ed scowled back at Fluffster, his back still turned to Roy and hand still on their dog's warm head, and said nothing at all.

There was another slight clattering of dishware behind him. Then- silence.

"Ed," Roy sighed at last. The warm lilt of assurance, of _manipulation,_ had faded away at last, drifting into his quieter, more honest words- and ironically, it was being taken seriously that started to lower his walls at last. He felt his shoulders start to fall, prickly tension filtering away as Roy turned more to face him, still speaking. "It's really nothing. Okay? I'm not the only one. You don't have to worry about me. You know me... I'm _fine."_

Ed allowed himself little more than a sullen shrug, gaze still for no one but Fluffster. He rubbed his warm head, even holding himself still for another affectionate face lick, and did not once allow Roy to see him soften.

This was Roy's third doctor appointment in a month.

It had started with nothing abnormal. His law firm was changing health insurance providers, and for some reason that had entailed physicals for everyone, the new company wanting examine their new customers for themselves. He remembered, because that night Roy had treated him to what had felt like opening arguments to Congress to reshape healthcare from the top down, pacing about the living room with such passion in his eyes Ed nearly had jumped him right then and there... if he hadn't framed his whole speech around the inconvenience of _unnecessary physicals._

It had been funny, at the time.

It hadn't been all that funny a week later, when Roy had been called back for, in his words, _further tests._

Ed had gotten treated to another long, pacing opening argument that night, this one laced with a lot more gesticulating and passionate turns of phrase than before- even a few words Ed was pretty sure Roy had made up on the stop, Shakespeare-style. This time, it had been full of complaints that it seemed to be only veterans called back for further tests, and Ed had actually had a bit of fun chucking verbal pillows at Roy for conspiracy theories- even after he'd realized at least half the performance had been put on purely for his benefit.

To distract him.

Because now, it was his third fucking appointment in a month, the second time to be called back in _not even a month,_ and-

And it wasn't fucking funny anymore.

This was just how it had started with Mom. Just... being called in by secretive, reassuring, smiling doctors, for _more tests._

This was _exactly_ how it had started.

Behind him, Roy let out one heavy, heavy sigh, and there was a gentle _clunk_ as the pasta strainer hit the counter. He heard bare feet padding over the floor, the bastard still in a suit and even tie but his fancy dress shoes were always the first thing to go off whenever he stepped in the door, and soon, the approach turned into warm hands against him, one massaging into the scar on his shoulder while the other just rested gently, spreading over his back in a silent gesture of support.

"Edward," he said, a steady, firm assurance. Just that, his name, and nothing more.

Ed held very still, glaring on forward and willing himself to hold strong as he could, willing himself even harder than that to not _dare_ give in. This was what Roy did, he painted himself as invulnerable, steady, strong with his annoyingly slick, perfect tongue, with his assuring smile, that smug arrogance he radiated like a second skin, but it was an act that Ed knew he couldn't fall for anymore. His smug, radiating-perfection boyfriend who pranced about in tailored suits with arrogant smiles was the same idiot who went all red-faced, blanket-clinging, and _dramatic_ with so much as a cold. Roy was just as human as the rest of them, no matter how stubborn he was about it, and-

And-...

Ed slumped, the hard wall of his very own stubbornness giving in from around his heart, and he sunk sullenly right back into Roy's arms.

Roy wasted no time enfolding him in a Roy-hug, which, coincidentally, was one of Ed's favorite things, so he stifled his sullen protests as he was pulled back against his chest, the two just sitting there on the cold kitchen floor. Fluffster shook his head at them both, a steady wag of his head, then his tail, and flopped himself forward to nuzzle his face into his legs, giving Ed a hug both from behind and in front, and his walls caved in just a little more.

"Edward," Roy said again, warm and reassuring around him. "I know that I can't promise you that nothing's wrong with me. But... if it pleases the court, Your Honor, I _can_ convince you of it beyond a reasonable doubt...?"

"Will you take this seriously? For once in your life, will you take _something_ serious-"

"Do you know the chances of someone like me, getting seriously ill? Someone my age, Ed, in perfect health, ending up with- I don't know, cancer?"

Ed glared harder into space, still refusing himself to so much as turn around. " _You_ don't fucking know."

"Yes. But I know that _you_ know. And I am confident that the numbers are so low, they will make my point for me."

...

Okay, some days?

Ed _really_ fucking hated Roy Mustang.

"...Sixty thousand young adults are diagnosed with cancer every year in this country. You piece of shit. And... and, um, a majority of those are female, so... a bit under thirty thousand. Which- which is a _big_ number, genius-"

"A bit under thirty thousand, you say," Roy slid in slickly, almost a fucking _purr_ again _,_ and Ed couldn't stand it. "Out of how many?"

"..."

"How _many?"_

Ed sulked harder. His face burned now, embarrassment coupled with harsh irritation, and for a moment he didn't know whether he wanted to strangle him or hug him. "Millions, okay?! Millions! It's not even one percent, _okay?!"_

There was a breath of silence. This time, Ed could practically feel the assured smirk, Roy gently nuzzling his face against his neck just like Fluffster nuzzled into his legs. "Exactly," the other man murmured, squeezing him again. "And before you try to convince me _but one percent still happens,_ you've spent five years building a thesis that rests on less certainty than that. I am likelier, by many orders of magnitude, to get hit by a car on my way into work. So unless you're going to start having a conniption every morning before I leave- you don't get to worry about this, either."

Fluffster nodded on the heels of his words, a heavy _woof_ into his knee as he cuddled up even closer, and Roy remained against his back with his arms around him, and for just that moment, Ed felt warm and secure enough to listen to Roy's words, hear the confidence underneath, and let himself believe it. He knew _Roy_ believed it, and-

Well, fuck.

He already worried enough for the both of them. On this, on most things, on most _days_.

Maybe, just this once, he could let Roy take the lead.

For several moments, Ed had to just sit there, feeling Roy around him and one hand gently scratching against their dog's head. He took in a few breaths, trying to steady himself, make at least some sort of grasp at the stability and calm he knew Roy had woven that entire little speech together to impart to him.

Fluffster licked at him again.

And, finally, Ed caved.

"Roy?"

The lawyer squeezed him gently again, head still resting on his shoulder like it was a gentle pillow, not a knobby joint, because Roy was just _like that._ "Yes?"

"You know you don't know _shit_ about statistical analysis, right?"

This time, it was Roy's turn to laugh, and Ed filter the tension seep out of him, too, the finely restrained tension that he'd controlled and hidden so well, now just drifting away with an almost mechanical sort of precision. "Of course not," the lawyer murmured to his shoulder, and he could just _feel_ his smirk, now. "But I've heard you go on about it enough that I've committed the talking points to memory. And I know that, despite how much you might like to pretend otherwise right now, it's really a scientist who lives in your little heart, and it's him you'll listen to, because the chance of this being any more than an overzealous doctor covering his ass from the likes of people just like me, except of a more ambulance-chaser variety, are so slim it's astronomical. And while you _are_ one in a million, my dear Edward, you're not an astronaut."

It was, overall, another very touching little speech. Constructed and turned through carefully with Roy's slick tongue and silver words, and radiating such inner strength and confidence Ed was helpless but to allow himself to be swept away by it.

Or... _would've_ been helpless.

If not for-

"Roy?" he asked again, and this time, he felt his very hard-fought smile began to fade into a dangerous frown.

"Yes?"

_A scientist lives in my little heart..._

"Did you just," he started slowly, "call me... in the most stupidly romantic way you could wrangle up... _short?"_

This time, no answer came at all; at least, no answer in words. Roy remained perfectly still and smug and proud behind him, arms still settled warmly around in his shoulders- but in the warmth of his face still pressed to his cheek, he felt the slightest twitch of another smirk.

This time, it was Ed's eyes that twitched, and if it hadn't been for poor Fluffster's head under his hand, he would've balled a fist so tight it only could've been satisfied with a punch.

"Roy?"

"Yes, Ed, that _is_ my name, do take care not to wear it out..."

Ed inhaled deeply through his nose, counted to ten, and did his very best to remind himself that murdering a a man who worked at a law firm half staffed by veterans who knew their way around a gun was probably not the best idea.

Probably.

"Roy Mustang, if you do not start making dinner again in the next three seconds, I am going to take that pasta strainer, and beat you within an inch of your life with it."

And to this, Ed won little more than another laugh, infinitely more relaxed than before, and the gentlest of another squeeze.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks very much for all the comments/kudos!!!
> 
> If you're wondering, the break mostly happened because of irl stuff that cropped up out of nowhere. Thankfully, I manged to wrap up most of it finally last week and have at last had more time to write. However, like I said first chapter, none of this is pre-written, so it may still be a little slow going from here. Mea culpa

"Non-Hodgkin's lymphoma."

Roy blinked.

He blinked again.

The doctor continued to sit quietly across from him, patient file settled in his lap as he watched him with a silent, grave expression, patient in a way that was worrying, pitying in a way that was stomach-churning. Roy blinked several times more. He stared, first at the doctor, a stranger that he had never met before and had had him on edge since the moment he'd stepped into the exam room instead of the general physician, then down at the folder, then back to the doctor again.

"...What?"

"Non-Hodgkin's lymphoma," the doctor said again, as if _that_ was the problem, he simply had not heard him the time before. He sat quietly for a few moments longer, wordless and silent, giving him the time to sit there and stare senselessly with a mind as blank and empty as a desert. Then, with a soft, increasingly grave voice, he went on. "It's a type of cancer."

Roy stuttered something out weakly again, because again- as if  _that_ was the problem- but fora few moments on, he still couldn't even grasp how he was meant to think. "...I know," he rasped finally, blinking dazedly down at the file himself.  _My partner studies it,_ he felt in his throat, but his mouth had gone dry and it felt like he'd completely forgotten how to talk.

"Your first physician recognized some distinctive abdominal swelling on your first visit, and called me in for a biopsy on your last," he explained carefully. "We were looking at several different things today- we really didn't expect these results." He offered a slight, wane smile, though if it was supposed to be comforting, it really did not show. "Considering your young age and otherwise good condition and health, cancer really is quite rare. One in thousands... even rarer than that, really. Perhaps-"

"One in a million," Roy supplied tonelessly. 

Then, he almost started laughing right there in the middle of the doctor's office.

Well, look at that.

Ed had been right after all.

The doctor blinked himself, seemingly thrown off by the blase response. Once again, Roy found his bedside manner rather severely lacking, and still really wasn't sure what he was meant to think or feel or  _be._

All he could really process, it seemed, all he could hear in his own head, was the echoing sentiment that  _Ed was right._

After another few moments of uncomfortable silence, the doctor started again, voice steady and warm again, but it felt more like a facade than anything else. Because how many patients did this doctor give this speech to today alone? How many other  _ones in a million_ were sitting in exam rooms just like this hearing speeches just like this one? "I understand it's a difficult diagnosis to hear. However, the survival rates are actually quite good, and in your case, you are young, otherwise healthy, and, most importantly, we caught it very early. Your prognosis is good, although I unfortunately won't be able to give you anything more concrete until after you've finished some cycles of treatment, so we can see how well it's working."

Roy nodded slowly again, still in something of a daze and lost as to what to say. Again, for the third time this meeting, he found Ed's words on his tongue, that he already had known that, because Ed talked about different prognoses and survival rates and treatments  _all the time,_ and at least part of him wanted to point out that the doctor telling him it was only one in a million chance the treatments wouldn't work for him was  _not_ all that comforting when there was only a one in a million chance that he be here at all. But thinking about Ed made something sink deep and twist inside his chest, and so he continued to just sit there, nod numbly, and say nothing at all.

"Now, for your particular strain, Mr. Mustang, we'll start off with several cycles of chemotherapy. For some patients, that's all they need." He shifted the file to the side, now collecting up a stack of pamphlets- lord, so  _many_ \- from his side, to hand them over one by one.  _I have cancer- what now?_ and  _ Chemotherapy: what to expect  _ and  _ What are my options  _ and- god, his head was spinning just to feel the flimsy all settle in his hands. The diagnosis of a life time, some of the worst words anyone could ever hear, and somehow it was all meant to be encompassed by those flimsy little pamphlets that felt like fliers picked up off the street corner. Like he'd been socked in the face with a bowling bowl then handed a butterfly pink bandaid to make it better.

His head just... wouldn't stop spinning.

"...and there's a lot more that I'd like to go over with you today, but do you have any questions so far?"

Roy blinked lamely several times again. Once more, it first took him a moment to realize the doctor was even still talking. A moment after that to realize he'd been asked a question, and then, a moment more, still, to even recognize that he was supposed to respond at all.

He shook his head first, a dazed back and forth roll that was instinct more than anything else. But the doctor held silent still for another few moments, seeming to get the idea it was best to wait just in case, and in those moments it hit Roy with another dizzying spin to his head. "Wait, I- I actually-" It was insanity and bizarre, but somehow the only part of him left still functioning had perked up in the back of his brain, chattering about stew at home, meetings at work, plans tonight, tomorrow, and how everything now seemed to have been rent into disarray. It took him a few seconds to find the words for it, that functioning part of his head miles away from his mouth and the two separated by a sea of cement. 

"Can you excuse me for just one moment?" he asked at last. HIs voice came out dry and hoarse again, small in a way that was almost humiliating. "I need to... contact my office. To- to..."

"Of course," the doctor answered when Roy uselessly trailed off into silence, which was good, because the sudden mass of people he was supposed to contact and talk to and tell was too overwhelming to grasp. "I'll go and fill your first round of prescriptions and be back in a few minutes. Contact whoever you need to contact." 

Roy nodded listlessly back, again an instinct more than anything else, his phone weighing heavily in his hand as he watched the doctor move to the door. His numb fingers moved clumsily, dragging across the lock screen of Ed's wonderful face, sunny hair and eyes around a brilliant smile that could've made his heart soar any other day, but this day, right here, right now, only left it to sink back down into his stomach like a stone.

He swallowed hard again, struggling through the disbelief and bewilderment collecting in his throat, and clicked away from the picture as fast as he could. 

He swiped down his conversation list, scrolling past Maes' daily picture of Elicia to click on Riza Hawkeye. _ Sorry,  _ he typed numbly.  _ Appointment looks like it'll take a while, so I won't be back at work today. See you Monday _

The sent message sat there on the screen to be dumbly stared at it, just clear text in simple black and white, just the way Riza would like it. He knew she wouldn't ask if he didn't say. She'd worry, and suspect, and linger in his office with watchful eyes come Monday, but she would not ask if he did not volunteer the information, and that was enough.

Then, assurance to Riza sent, Roy swiped back to his conversations screen, and touched Ed's instead.

His last message to him, sent twenty minutes ago now, just before he'd been called back here, sat there waiting for him.

_ I've got a chill rest of the day, so don't fucking worry about interrupting me. How'd it go? _

_ Also if you're running late and looking at this while driving put it the fuck away, I don't care if you're at a red light you bastard _

Once again, Roy's heart shuddered, squeezing in a way that was wholly uncomfortable bu not entirely painful, and once again, he found himself at a loss for words.

For a minute more, his thumb hovered over the reply button. He didn't click it, because every time he imagined typing a message back, he didn't have the slightest clue what he would say.

How could he tell him something like this over the phone? Over a  _ text message,  _ even? He knew Ed would want to hear it now, that he'd forgive the insensitive and tone-deaf way of telling him because he'd  _ told him,  _ and that was what mattered, but he just couldn't do it. God, he already knew Ed was sitting in his lab probably worrying himself into a fit over it; how could he knowingly make that worse? What difference would a few hours make in Ed finding out? 

How  _ bad _ would that feel for Ed, to be sitting there in his lab, and get  _ that  _ vibrating on his phone?

Roy just couldn't text him that, knowing what it would do to him.

When the doctor returned a few minutes later, Roy's phone was back in his pocket, switched off, his hands clammy and wrung tight together- Ed's message, still unreplied to.

* * *

That afternoon, some two hours after he'd sat down in a doctor's office, and some three hours before he normally got home, Roy unlocked his front door, and staggered straight inside all the coordination of a drunk.

For several moments, he could manage nothing at all more than just standing right there in the entryway, blinking dazedly forwards and all but lost in his own house.

If it hadn't been for Colonel Fluffster, he might've stood there like that for a hell of a lot longer than that. 

But there his dog was, padding happily around the corner with a wagging tail and a lolling tongue and when he saw Roy there, his eyes brightened like he was a puppy all over again. He limped closer, eager and warm, and even if Roy didn't know anything else in the world, any more, he knew what he was supposed to do with that.

"H- Hey, boy," he chuckled, sinking down to his knees to give him a scratch around the ears, then found himself helpless but to smile for perhaps the first time all afternoon when he got a lick to the face. "Yeah, yeah, I know I'm home early; how're you? Did you miss me?"

He growled gleefully again, nudging at his chin with a warm and fluffy head, and Roy finally sagged down with just the tiniest hint of relief.

The dog had kept him cheerful or at least sane once before, a wounded puppy that had been all but dumped into his arms when he'd been wheeled out from that sandy hell overseas on a stretcher, and now, here he was, already doing the same for him once again. Roy would've laughed, if he hadn't been so throughly worn, stretched thin, and near half-dead, inside and out.

Fluffster raised his head again curiously, blinking back at the door shut behind him, and Roy smiled again, sinking back against the wall. "Sorry, it's just me today, Colonel. Ed's not home yet... hey, come on, don't look so disappointed. I promised him I'd make beef stew, so I'll feed you some if you're good. And you're always good, aren't you, boy?"

He got another woof and a lick for his efforts, and Roy just smiled tremblingly to himself, drawing an arm around his fluffy neck to lean his head back against the wall. 

The veritable pharmacy of pills sat next to him still in a noisy, rattling bag, reminding him again of the task of organizing them all and writing out the schedule he was meant to take them with. Another army of pamphlets sat in his briefcase scattered over files from work, demanding to be read, demanding to repeat to him everything the doctor already had; what to expect with the chemo, what to expect in the future, what to expect from the cancer itself. God, he had-  _ cancer.  _ He had arrangements to make, his office to speak with, his aunt to call, and... and Ed...

Roy shook his head briefly, burying his face back against his warm, thick auburn coat about his dog's neck.  _ Ed.  _ Ed was going to come home tonight, and ask him what had happened, and- and he was going to have to  _ tell him.  _ No... Ed had already been so worried when it was nothing more than an appointment, for him to find out  _ this-  _ for Roy to have to tell him- god, no. He couldn't do it. He could already see just what Ed's face would look like, shocked, then horrified, then  _ terrified,  _ and this time there'd be no way for Roy to fix it. He couldn't make things right today by telling him just  _ not to worry;  _ who  _ wouldn't  _ be worried?!

_ Besides,  _ he thought humorlessly, face still buried miserably back into his dog's side.  _ Look what happened last time you told him not to worry. _

Roy breathed against Fluffster for several moments, first trying to tamp down on the quaking fear clutching at his insides, but when he felt it grasping around his heart he just gave up entirely. Just for a moment, he told himself, he'd let himself lose it for just a moment, but that was a mistake, because then the moment had passed and he couldn't stop it. His hands shook even as he wrung his fingers together again, fighting to force them still, to not yank at Fluffster, to steady himself, and his breaths trembled in his aching chest, snapping in faster and faster past clenched teeth, and before he knew it he was about to have his first panic attack in years, sitting right there in his hallway's floor.

It had been a very long time since he'd broken down over something he couldn't even conceptualize into his damn dog. Which was ironic, because that was exactly why Havoc had given him a puppy years ago, but he'd clawed himself back into a functioning human being from that scattered and pathetic mess and he couldn't go back to that. He  _ couldn't. _ Roy shook his head several times, dizzy even while sitting on the floor, gasping through clenched teeth as desperately deep as he could fight it, each one still a shallow, vanishing wheeze that left his lungs aching and his throat dry, but he kept on panting and clutching his dog for sheer life.

He was not going to do this again.

He was not going to  _ become  _ this again.

Fluffster whined gently against him. In the steady, warm voice Roy had somehow always imagined him having, even as a puppy, he could just almost hear  _ wow, it's been a long time since we've done this,  _ and Roy almost wanted to laugh aloud- even if it would've come out thick and broken and to no one but himself. That voice sounded a little bit like Maes, which was probably not all that healthy- but at this point, Roy figured that didn't matter, because he apparently wasn't all that healthy to begin with. 

Then he actually did crack up to himself, a pathetic burst of a wet, stunned chuckle, hysterical and all but crumbling apart right there on the hard floor. 

It wasn't all that funny, but then, he supposed that wasn't really the point to begin with.

"Come on, boy," he murmured finally, giving his dog one last scratch along the neck before working himself up, still unsteady on his feet, still swaying and half miserable, still sick to his stomach and dizzy in his head. But moving and getting his hands busy would keep his mind busy, and that was all there was for him to be better. To not be  _ this.  _ "Keep that to yourself, and- and I'll feed you all the scraps you want, okay?"

Fluffster may not have understood what was being asked of him, but he certainly did recognize what  _ feed you  _ and  _ scraps  _ meant, because the moment Roy was on his feet his dog was right behind him. Claws clicked eagerly on the floor behind him, a panting following on his tail as he turned his way towards the kitchen- and it was no accident that his briefcase and new armful of medication, he stashed away out of sight as soon as he could.

* * *

That afternoon, Roy had found his way home hours before he usually managed it, in a daze and staggering his way through his door, and settled himself in as best he could to try and forget that any of this day had ever happened.

Then, in the second early and unexpected arrival of that day, his front door was slammed right open, and through it stormed right in one miniature... and  _ very _ pissed off... boyfriend.

_ "Roy!  _ I know you're here, Roy, I saw your shit car outside! Answer me, you asshole!  _ Roy!" _

...oh, dear.

The heavy spoon clattered out of his hand, nearly winding up completely submerged right into the stew it was supposed to be stirring. Quite frankly, the spoon could drown for all he cared, because it was now evident he had something far more pressing to attend to- something that only grew more so as Ed continued to stomp about the house.

"Roy, where the f-"

" _ Edward,"  _ he called, poking his head out, and by the look of him, just in time to stop him from storming on straight past the kitchen to miss him entirely. The blond stood there halfway through the living room in disarray, braid windswept over panicked eyes and jacket inside out and overall looking like someone who had just raced home on his bike, leaving Roy even more puzzled than before. "Ed, I'm right here. What happened?"

Ed gaped at him, half dumbstruck and half paralyzed on the spot. "What hap-" he stammered, stopped, then shook his head wildly back and forth like a cornered animal, coiling and about to strike. "Where've you been?! I called you like twenty times!"

And now Roy was even more confused than before, rubbing at his head in bewilderment as he reached for his phone.  _ "When? _ I haven't gotten any-"

_ Oh. _

His phone now stood in between them, solid and irrefutably blank as he touched the button once, then twice, then three insistent times, and there, for both of them to see, the screen stayed black.

Oh.

He'd turned it off, in the doctor's office. Not to avoid Ed, but just to avoid any distractions whatsoever, and now...

Now it was hours later, and very obviously had missed a little more than a text message.

Roy groaned to himself, thunking his head hard against the wall. This day just kept getting better and better, didn't it? "I'm sorry," he sighed, in the same breath as some of Ed's hot-headed rage melting as well, because it was now undeniably apparent that he hadn't ignored him on purpose. "Really," he said, again half to himself, sagging along with Ed folding his arms with a huff, seeming still wanting to sulk and not quite having forgiven him yet. "I turned it off hours ago... I meant to turn it back on, Ed, I knew you'd be worried, I just- was... distracted."

"Well,  _ yeah, _ " Ed huffed back, "obviously." He scuffed a foot at the floor, glaring sulkily on down at his shoes. "I guess we share that, then, since I ended up distracted pretty much all afternoon." He hesitated for a moment more, clearly reluctant to admit it but even more uncomfortable not addressing it, not quite meeting Roy's eyes as he glared at his phone instead. "Don't look at me like that, bastard. You  _ never  _ turn your phone off... even Ms. Hawkeye was a little worried, she may not have said it but I could tell-"

"Wait,  _ Riza?  _ What does she have to do with this?"

His boyfriend sagged back onto the couch, hitting it with enough force to make the expensive thing groan, which was decidedly amusing, coming from his tiny frame, but not all that funny when coupled with the quietly haunted look on his face. "I called her first. She said you'd never showed up back at your office and that you told her that you were planning on coming home. She said- it doesn't matter what she said, because you still weren't answering and I've  _ never  _ seen you miss a message for that long, and I... quit  _ looking  _ at me like that, bastard. I didn't even leave that early, I was just- worried- god knows why about your stupid ass, can't even remember to turn a  _ phone  _ on-"

A fond smile unfolded across Roy's face, and with it went the aching tension in his shoulders and the tight little knot in his stomach loosened and for the first time all day, he felt nothing but a warm affection, flooding through him from head to toe. It was honestly regrettable, but in some ways, this really was Roy's favorite Ed. In the earliest weeks he'd been reminded, badly so, of an unfortunate high school girlfriend of his, so jealous she'd all but kept tags on him while he was sleeping, but that wasn't it. That wasn't Ed.

Ed loved so wholly, so fiercely, with every fiber of his being, and when there was something that put that at risk- some of that brilliance in him was overcome by a worry he couldn't rationalize away. 

He didn't love Ed being distressed like that, of course. He didn't love it when Ed was upset just like he was right now. Of  _ course  _ not. His most favorite Ed was happy Ed, by virtue of the fact that Roy loved him and wanted him to be happy. But... 

He supposed that he loved that Ed could just care about people so damn  _ much. _

So Roy, a warm and almost liquifying affection still expanding in his chest, pushed himself forward to join Ed on the couch. Ed continued to sulk and to glare, but when Fluffster limped out behind him to curl up on the floor by their feet, not even Ed's stubborn frown could persist all that much longer. When it softened away, though, smoothing off his face, it was only for his mouth to instead crease into an even more worried frown, one that pulled downwards even as their shoulders touched, his face pale still and his eyes concerned. 

"What ended up happening, then?" he asked, eyes flicking over to him as if he couldn't quite meet his gaze but couldn't look away from him, either. "At the doctor's. What'd they say?"

"They-"

_ Oh. _

And just like that, that was all it took to douse Roy's smile in a bucket of ice, and turn the warmth in him to a knot back in his stomach all over again.

The doctor. 

The-  _ cancer. _

...right.

All the relief that had been spurned at Ed's sudden appearance extinguished like a boot stepping on a candle. It morphed straight into nausea instead, clenching in his stomach like a cold leaden ball, and in that stricken moment, he couldn't say anything at all.

Roy opened his mouth once only to find it pathetically devoid of any words at all or the strength with which to say them. He coughed slightly, trying to clear his throat, then tried again. Still, nothing. 

It was a simple sentence, he could hear it right there in his head: _ I have cancer.  _ It was three simple little words, which given the loquacious and elegant arguments he'd built a career off spinning should've been the easiest thing he'd ever done, but just three simple words that were a devastating, impossible mess that he couldn't even grasp himself, never mind  _ say it aloud.  _ It felt like sand slipping through his fingers. It felt like sawdust and lead in his mouth, glueing his throat shut and weighing his tongue into useless. It felt like those three words echoing around inside his head were a bomb going off in there that had taken every scrap of sense or coherent thought with it.

Ed might as well have asked him to recite his dissertation from memory. It would've been just as possible and he would've understood it just as much. 

He tried again, and he just  _ couldn't do it. _

The continued silence collected like dust and cobwebs around his heart and mouth. And worse than that, it was making Ed fidgety again, stiffening so badly Roy could feel it just through the brush he had with his shoulder, and knowing Ed he probably felt a whole lot worse than he was willing to show. But the words just weren't there. He couldn't say something that he couldn't even come close to grasping himself, but Ed needed him to answer with  _ something,  _ and before Roy knew it his mouth was opening and the words were coming out.

"It was nothing," he said, arm lifting up to squeeze around his shoulder in the greatest comfort there was to be had. "It's all nothing, Ed. Everything is okay."

And just like that, it was too late to take it back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is Maes with Roy, and Ed with Al, so hopefully we can get some of Ed's backstory, some more of what the next couple months for Roy are going to look like, as well as (some of) the insight into why it was so hard for Roy to tell Ed. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> As I said, I'd really like any sort of feedback anyone can give for this fic, so I can better learn how to write material like this and make it more enjoyable for my readers as I work on the next update (although I won't write smut in this fic). I welcome any and all feedback there is! Thanks for reading!


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